


Weakness

by MikeWritesThings



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Minor Injuries, Referenced PTSD, Sleepy Cuddles, basically theyre gay and dating already and i love thjem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: To his surprise, he saw Octavio staring intently up at him, before straightening up excitedly, almost like he had been waiting for him to come back online. Taejoon bit his tongue as he prepared for him to shoot his drone down, swallowing a curse.Octavio didn’t do that—instead, he held up his hands, forming a heart with his fingers and kicking his leg up exaggeratedly, like a fawning schoolgirl.And it was. It was really cute, is what it was.Or: Taejoon wonders if he should allow himself to have a weakness, and that weakness is Octavio.





	Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> yes nobody ships this. yes I do not care. I do what I want
> 
> unrelated but [this lovely piece of fanart](https://leviathan-fanart.tumblr.com/post/183796131267/more-octane-sketches-because-im-hopeless) is how I imagine octane looks under the mask. just a little bastard gremlin, whom I love. but with piercings
> 
> potential trigger warnings: brief mentions of injections/syringes because octane and also healing, some passing mentions of blood (nothing too gory), and a reference/implication to PTSD

There would be no feelings involved at any point in time, Taejoon had told himself repeatedly. He was not going to get attached to any of the other competitors—he was there to bring the Games down and find answers. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less.

This proved much easier said than done, though. At first, it was just a simple moment of swallowing his pride so he could approach Caustic and introduce himself. He’d ducked away soon after; he didn’t need his autograph or anything, just wanted to make sure the other knew his name. It was a lapse he had allowed at the time, because he knew Mila would have never forgiven him if he passed up the chance to meet their favorite Legend.

Then, Wattson got involved. She was something like everybody’s little sister, her father having helped build a good part of the arena, and she’d somehow wormed her way into his heart as well. Not that he’d admit it, but, well. He could allow this exception. She was very bright, and it was always good to hear a second opinion on something when he wasn’t sure of how to proceed with something, and she made a good squadmate.

After a while, Taejoon couldn’t pretend that he didn’t care any longer. Not when the others seemed to be doing their damndest to befriend him, and were being exceptionally annoying about it. Bangalore gave him shooting tips, Wraith was good company in silence, and if Wattson was everyone’s little sister, then Gibraltar was everybody’s big brother. He’d even somehow gotten on first-name basis with Mirage, who had pretty much insisted that Taejoon should call him Elliott.

("This doesn't make us friends," Taejoon said after Elliott had tried, and failed, to drunkenly pronounce his name.

"Yeah it does," Elliott slurred. "Don't worry, I'll whittle you down. I did the same thing with Renee. We're besties now, aren't we?"

"I'm not carrying you home," Wraith said in response, and he gave an indignant hiccup.)

None of this was comparable, of course, to the biggest, most obvious blip in Taejoon’s _ ‘don’t get attached to anyone’ _ plan: Octavio. 

Currently, they were in the middle of a game—he was crouched in a corner, legs cramping from the amount of times he’d assumed that position in the past hour. Pathfinder was scouting ahead and had requested the assistance of him in the form of his drone, so Taejoon himself could stay behind and hole up inside the building with Caustic. He watched Pathfinder zip onto the roof of a building near the geyser, his screen flickering a little due to the distance the drone had flown. He maneuvered it a few more meters, hoping to see if anyone was waiting to shoot Pathfinder down, but lost connection almost immediately.

“I’m going to move a little bit,” Taejoon said, looking over at Caustic. He had explained how his drone worked to his teammates, but he still thought he could see Caustic’s face scrunch up in annoyance. It was hard to tell with the mask.

“Fine,” Caustic relented. “But do not get yourself killed. I can’t promise I will pick you up.”

Taejoon moved to another building, a bit closer to his drone, and checked with his screen to make sure that was sufficient enough. The connection was back on, but he knew that only a few more meters would cut it again. He slid down a hillside, aiming for an abandoned truck that he could slide under for cover. His back hit it, and he rested comfortably on his side so he could easily roll under the truck if he was shot at. He steered his drone, silently thankful that Pathfinder had noticed the stillness of it and wasn’t rushing ahead to do anything foolish. 

Taejoon flew above the train tracks, and he spotted movement to the left. Turning his drone and making sure it was high enough to not be seen by the other squad, he heard the slight buzzing of his drone highlighting them on his minimap. He got a little closer, trying to see who they were without being noticed. He didn’t recognize two of them—they must be randoms, but the third one made him hesitate for just a second before getting closer, making sure he was sufficiently highlighted.

_ Sorry, Tavi, _Taejoon thought to himself as he surveyed the other, watching him run around at top speed and gathering as much loot as he could get his hands on. He and Caustic were too far away to start an attack, so he exited out of his drone and told Caustic that they were going to head Pathfinder’s way. Luckily, Caustic had already picked up his gas traps, having seen the highlighted squad on his map. They made their way towards Pathfinder’s location, jogging silently. The MRVN had taken shelter inside the buildings while the highlighted squad above them looted.

“Let’s go under that zipline, so when I EMP, we can go up immediately and kill them,” Taejoon told the others. Caustic nodded gruffly and Pathfinder unholstered his G7 with obvious excitement. They crept towards one of the ziplines, carefully quiet so they would not alert Octavio’s squad. Once they were near, Taejoon crouched low behind a rock to make sure he couldn’t get sniped from a distance, and entered drone view.

The two randoms were crouched near a lootbin together, seemingly arguing over who should take the level four helmet. He couldn’t see Octavio, and turned his drone around to see if he was looting the buildings opposite of his squadmates. To his surprise, he saw Octavio staring intently up at him; he had been eerily stock-still until Taejoon had moved his drone, when he had then straightened up excitedly, almost like he was waiting for him to come back online. Taejoon bit his tongue as he prepared for him to shoot his drone down, swallowing a curse.

Octavio didn’t do that—instead, he held up his hands, forming a heart with his fingers and kicking his leg up exaggeratedly, like a fawning schoolgirl.

And it was. It was really cute, is what it was.

“What’s taking so long?” Caustic grumbled in Taejoon’s ear, reminding him forcefully that they were waiting for him. “Who’s up there?”

Taejoon’s eyes tore away from the display—Octavio was now blowing kisses, and though his mask was covering his expression, Taejoon imagined that he was really puckering his lips up beneath it.

“Two Nobodys and Octane,” Taejoon answered coolly, despite how hot his face was feeling, and he tried not to outwardly react to the scoff he received.

“Are you hesitating?”

“No,” Taejoon said, fighting to keep his face neutral. “He’s just being stupid.”

Diving back into drone view, Taejoon saw that Octane was still again, watching, perhaps knowing he had gone offline. Taejoon was glad he wasn’t sending finger hearts up at him again. Especially because he was pretty sure his face was shining with embarrassment.

_ Stupid, what if they figure us out? _ Taejoon thought, pressing one of the buttons on his screen a little savagely. The air became charged with static as the drone prepared the EMP, and he watched Octavio inject stim into his neck and bolt away, cackling maniacally. The two randoms were not as aware—they were still visibly fighting over the helmet.

“_Gaja,_” Taejoon said, and his squadmates grabbed onto the zipline instantly. He was last up, clambering on top of the train tracks as he heard the randoms screaming and ducking for cover. He didn’t know which buildings they had run into, but Caustic had it covered, blocking all doorways with traps, giving a rather chilling laugh as he did so. Taejoon couldn’t pretend he didn’t think it was cool, though.

Pathfinder was peering down his sights, and with a delighted little robotic noise, said, “Over there!”

Taejoon followed his gaze, and saw a terrified face peering out one of the windows. The person noticed him and dropped to the ground with a squeak. 

Taejoon approached, Caustic trailing behind, slowly setting up more gas traps to drop once they entered. Pathfinder assured them that he would cover them from behind in case another squad attacked.

Pressing his hand against the door, he wasn’t surprised when it refused to budge. Taking a step back, he kicked it once, and it gave a shudder. Twice, and the glass cracked. He was rearing back to do it a third time when Caustic stepped forward and drove his fist into it, breaking the door down in one clean jab. Had they not been about to eliminate a squad, Taejoon would have taken a pause to admire the other's strength, as he might have done years ago—but more pressing matters were at hand in the form of two trembling Nobodys crouched under a window.

They were both downed in an instant—Taejoon’s Prowler did the job cleanly enough, and he’d pulled out his P2020 to finish the job when Caustic set down a trap with a great laugh, watching them cough with something like delight in his eyes. Taejoon stepped back outside—he’d let the other have his fun, but didn’t feel like coughing his own lungs out. He was about to enter drone view to shift it around when he heard Pathfinder’s voice cheerily say,

“I am down!”

_ Octavio, _ Taejoon thought to himself, and jogged towards where Pathfinder was pinging. He didn’t see any sign of Octavio, which wasn’t surprising. He was very fast, and Taejoon had watched him long enough to know that while stealth wasn’t really Octvaio’s style, whenever he _ did _ deliver sneak attacks, he did it quickly and circled around the remaining squadmates to take them out from behind while they were searching for the attacker. It was with this in mind that he turned on his heel, right as Octavio leapt high over his head—presumably with the help of a jump pad—gun raised and attempting to fire right into Taejoon’s face. He ducked just in time, the Wingman shot barely grazing him, and flung an arc star at Octavio’s back. It met its mark, burying itself into the back of Octavio’s neck, and Taejoon saw the miniscule shudder that passed through the other’s body before he’d turned and fired at Taejoon again.

Being the other’s...er, boyfriend, partner, whatever...it was easier for Taejoon to notice the small things about Octavio. Many new competitors backed down from fighting Octavio, because not only was he fast, he was also very good at masking pain. It came with injecting himself every thirty seconds to stay ahead of everybody else, it came with doing stunts that risked death, and it was a little discouraging whenever you tore through his armor only for him to still be laughing and not seeming the least bit bothered. Taejoon knew that he won fights that way; still standing with his head high, weapons in hand, untouchable, laughing as the other squad backed away in fear. 

In reality, he knew Octavio was clinging onto only a fraction of his health, battered and beaten, but it was this acting that made others scared to waste their own precious ammo against a being that simply couldn’t be hit.

And Taejoon—well, he knew all the tells.

He knew Octavio had no armor left, not after that arc star, and when Octavio slid around a corner, Taejoon knew there was a reason Octavio wasn’t facing him head-on. He was injured somewhere, somewhere that made it hard to move, and it was probably his legs. Rounding the same corner, Taejoon expected to see Octavio recharging his shields. He did not expect to be shot in the face, but he felt the bullet connect with his chin and gave a yell, moving a hand up to clutch at it. His palm was warm and wet with blood, but it didn’t stop him from firing back at Octavio, one-handed. Octavio rolled out of the way, reaching for a grenade, and Taejoon stopped him with a swift kick to the abdomen.

“Ow,” Octavio complained, fingers moving to massage his stomach. “You_ know _ that’s my weak spot, dude.”

Taejoon fired some more, bringing his bloodied hand down to reload his gun, and grunted when he felt more shots being delivered to his legs. He stumbled against the wall while Octavio darted away, and he wanted to heal up, but didn’t know if he should risk it. He listened hard, and when he didn’t hear anything, jabbed a syringe into his arm. He tossed it aside as soon as it was finished and stepped out into the open.

He saw Octavio racing away as fast as he could, towards the building where his squad had died. He didn’t know that Caustic was still in that building, watching his team slowly die, and Taejoon wasn’t going to let the other man kill him. His teammates were dead, so Taejoon didn’t have to worry about shooting him while he was down. It always did something funny to his stomach every time he did that to Octavio, and he felt better knowing that the other would simply die once the bullet hit him.

He raised his P2020, aiming as well as he could with one hand, before taking the shot.

And Octavio didn’t die, because of course he didn’t, and Taejoon sighed when he realized the other had a level four knockdown shield. He approached where Octavio was curled up on the ground, lying still but alive. He looked up when Taejoon approached, and despite his predicament, Taejoon could hear the smile in his voice.

“Uh, if you let me revive, I’ll give your jacket back,” Octavio promised, voice light. “Wanna punch it out?”

Despite his tone, Taejoon noticed the slight trembling in his fingers that betrayed his pain, and bit back a smile. Whenever Octavio was in the top two with someone who had a level four knockdown shield, he convinced them to drop all their armor and weapons so they could punch it out instead of using guns. It was usually amusing to watch. 

They were not in the top two, however, and he could hear the sound of Caustic reviving Pathfinder, and did not want to be faced with accusations of going soft if they found out that he’d let the other revive. He still hesitated, however, wondering if he should finish Octavio off himself or let one of the others do it. Finally, he made up his mind, and answered Octavio.

“No,” Taejoon said simply, and dropped a grenade in front of the other’s face. He stepped back, and quickly looked away when Octavio gave him a small, stupid finger heart that Taejoon _ knew _he shouldn’t have taught him, but it was cute anyways, and, well, it made him feel better even though he’d literally just killed his...significant other. Partner. Boyfriend.

He was working on the label.

Taejoon and his squad ended up winning the game; the knockdown shield had come in handy, and though Pathfinder was still standing when he’d revived, it was his EMP that saved them from a loss. The game ended, and Taejoon was ushered to the medbay to get treated for his wounds. He wasn’t surprised to see Octvaio there, mask off and sporting a rather alarming amount of bandages. They seemed especially concentrated around his head, covering one eye and blood seeping through. Despite this, he was in good spirits.

“You won!” Octavio cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “I knew you’d win! I mean, at least, if _ I _wasn’t going to win, you’re the next best thing.”

“Yeah,” Taejoon hummed, amused. “_Jjeoreo._”

Octavio launched into a play-by-play of how he had decimated two squads by himself early on with nothing but a Mozambique and several well-timed jump pads, how someone had managed to strike an important part of his left leg that had left the mechanics janky, and, ultimately, how much his two squadmates sucked. 

“Anyways,” Octavio let out a breath, slapping Taejoon, who had been patiently listening, on the shoulder. “I can’t wait for the day we’re on a squad together,_ cariño. _ We’d kick all sorts of ass, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely not,” Taejoon said, and ignored Octavio’s scandalized gasp. “You’d flirt with me too much.”

“I would not,” Octavio said petulantly.

“You flirt with me when I’m on the _ enemy _ team. You’d be even worse if we were squadmates.”

Octavio’s face screwed up, but it was hard to take him seriously with all the bandages. “I know better than to flirt when we’re on a team together.”

Taejoon raised an eyebrow. “The hearts you made today suggest otherwise.”

“Well, I have a reputation, Joonito,” Octavio said, and Taejoon felt his chest do a weird constricting thing that happened whenever Octavio used that dumb nickname. (“Adding -ito to names makes them cuter,” Octavio had explained one day at lunch. “I’ve called Ajay _ Ajayita _for years. It’s your turn. Taejoonito is too long. Joonito is cuter. I don’t take constructive criticism.”) “Everyone thinks that when I flirt, it’s a taunt! Nobody bats an eye!”

Taejoon supposed this was true—Octavio had established that kind of reputation for himself last season when he’d openly flirted with Elliott in the middle of a match, and he supposed it looked the same way from an outsider perspective, but he knew everyone who actively participated in the Games knew differently. He recalled Caustic, and the unspoken accusation in his eyes when Taejoon declared he’d killed Octavio. He didn’t voice it, but Taejoon knew he was thinking it: _ You could have killed him a lot faster, but you hesitated. I know you did. I know what he is to you. _

And Taejoon couldn’t blame him. Not when he himself had planned this when he’d taken out that tower ages ago—he would join the Games, and he would take them down. Everybody—the Syndicate, the competitors, the sponsors. He wouldn’t form any attachments. He’d get the job gone and be on his merry way before they knew what hit them, and restart his life in Angel City, where he could finally live without worry of being killed in his sleep.

But Taejoon failed. He’d allowed himself to like the others, to silently look at Caustic through a fanboyish lens, to get drinks with Elliott whenever the other asked, to compare tracking methods with Bloodhound. He’d allowed whatever _ this _ is, with Octavio. He’d allowed it.

But, he wasn’t going to regret it. Not yet. Not when Octavio was currently leaning against him, anyways, talking about some stunt he wanted to do on the train. This thing with Octavio was nice. It really was. He had a certain enthusiasm he knew Mila would approve of. He wasn’t sure she’d approve of the amount of times he’s killed him, though.

“Earth to Joon,” Octavio said, bringing Taejoon out of his thoughts. “Hey, you zoned out. _ Bien? _”

“Yeah,” Taejoon lied, but Octavio looked unimpressed. “Okay, it’s nothing. I just feel a little bad for killing you.”

Octavio tipped his head back and laughed. It was whenever his eyes crinkled up like that, into a smile, that Taejoon realized how young the other looked. Octavio had what Bangalore had referred to as a “baby face”, and Taejoon was inclined to agree. It wasn’t_ too _bad—at least, he didn’t look any younger than high-school age—but Taejoon knew Octavio wore a mask for that reason, or, at least, that was one of the reasons he wore it when he played the Games and did stunts.

(“It’s easier to be taken seriously when you don’t look like you’re still going through puberty,” Octavio had answered a little glumly when Taejoon asked. “It’s rough on the piercings, though.”

He’d then faked being offended when Taejoon laughed, and threw a fry at his head.)

“Don’t feel bad, seriously,” Octavio said, giving Taejoon’s chest a reassuring pat. “You could never hurt me, _ cariño. _Feel free to do whatever you want to me. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s _ such _a romantic way to tell someone you’re okay with them killing you,” Elliott murmured a little sarcastically as he shuffled by, looking thoroughly disheveled. There was a large tear in the back of his suit, and he was clearly sour because of the fact he’d died in seventeenth place.

“You just wished Wraith shared the same sentiment!” Octavio shot back.

“Yeah, quit harassing us, old man.”

“You can’t be_ that _much younger than me!” Elliott said, voice dangerously close to a whine, but he left them alone and trailed after the nurse attending to him after saying his final words: “You two are so grossly cute together. I hate it.”

(It was entirely Elliott's fault, by the way, that he and Octavio were together. So he liked telling himself. In truth, all Elliott had done was say "Oh, that's Octavio" when Taejoon asked, and really, it was Octavio's fault for being cute.)

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Octavio said, like nothing had happened, and Taejoon suppressed a snort. “You are totally welcome to kill me at any point and I won’t even be mad.”

“Thanks,” Taejoon said, trying not to let his laughter be heard. Octavio gave him a genuine smile: not one filled with humor, not a smirk, nor a grin masking nervousness, but a true and genuine smile. He stood up on his tiptoes and gave Taejoon's chin a quick kiss, and Taejoon flinched slightly when it sent a sharp stab of pain through his jaw.

"Sorry for this," Octavio said, tapping the wound on Taejoon's face. "You can get your revenge next time in the ring."

"I'll remember that." Taejoon fought back a smile, though he doubted Octavio’s blessing was enough to make the discomfort disappear from his stomach whenever he fired at the other. This was why he didn’t want to get attached. This was why he…

“Mr. Silva?” A nurse approached rather nervously. “We need to change your bandages.”

“You_ just _ changed them!” Octavio scowled, either oblivious to or simply not caring about the fact that the amount of blood soaking through his bandages was quite alarming. “Come on, Joon, help me out.”

Taejoon didn’t feel like dealing with both the nurse and Octavio—he knew he would side with the nurse and wasn’t prepared to deal with the betrayal in Octavio’s eyes, however light-hearted it might be.

“_Annyeong,_” Taejoon said, turning away, and left Octavio scrambling to get away from proper medical care.

* * *

“You two are the most sleep-deprived people I’ve ever met,” a voice said, distinctly unamused.

Taejoon looked up from his laptop, and he could hear the shifting of Octavio in his chair. They were both currently in their own living spaces, though Taejoon was sitting on the small cot he slept on, back pressed against the shelves that divided he and Octavio. He knew Octavio had pushed his chair up against the same spot, and therefore their backs were to each other as they did their own thing. It was kind of romantic, if you took away the fact that there was some gaming equipment dividing them.

The voice belonged to Lifeline (Taejoon didn’t feel like he was on first-name basis with her yet), and she was standing before them, hands on her hips and mouth turned down in a scowl. She had probably gotten up to use the restroom, and was clearly vexed by the fact that he and Octavio were still awake while everyone else was asleep.

“Us? Just the two of us? What about Wraith?” Octavio asked, and Taejoon heard the wheels of his chair scrape across the ground. “I’m pretty sure she’s been staring at that wall for, like, three hours.”

“This isn’t healthy,” Lifeline said, ignoring Octavio. “Tavi, the amount of energy drinks you have are unhealthy. They’re going to kill you. If they don’t, I will. Or Caustic. I’m pretty sure Caustic is about to toss a gas canister in here.”

“Let him,” Octavio said dismissively. “Tae and I are fine, Ajayita. We’ll be fine. No matches tomorrow! It’s a free day! _ Libertad!_”

“Crypto,” Lifeline said, addressing him directly, and he allowed his eyes to shift from his screen to her. “Please talk some sense into him. I swear he’s going to give me gray hairs. If you must, hit him over the head. It’ll knock him out cold.”

“I’m _ right here,_” Octavio said indignantly.

Taejoon gave her a silent thumbs up, and though she still looked disgruntled, she left them alone. With a sigh, Taejoon closed his laptop and brought his fingers up to rub at his temples. He could admit that she had a point—he hadn’t slept in at least forty-eight hours, and now that he wasn’t staring at a screen, he could feel the effects already. He could use some sleep, but he wasn’t sure if Octavio could be persuaded to crash. If he even could. Taejoon didn’t know how many energy drinks the other had had in the past hour, but it was probably an alarmingly high number.

Still, it was worth a shot.

Getting to his feet and stretching his limbs, Taejoon wandered over into Octavio’s space, watching the other spin slowly in his seat as he played two different games at once. Well, that was one less game than usual. Maybe he was feeling tired, and this would be easier than Taejoon thought.

“Let’s go to bed,” Taejoon suggested, and Octavio shot him a glance before focusing on the screens again.

“No can do, amigo. I’m about to beat these levels.”

Rather than argue, Taejoon crossed over to the beanbag that Octavio supposedly slept on and sank down on it. He’d never actually seen it used, but Octavio had said it was big enough for him whenever he took his legs off, and it was rather comfortable. He could imagine sleeping on this if he could curl his whole body onto it, but he was taller and broader than Octavio, and that probably wasn’t achievable. He watched his...partner...play for a while—at least fifteen minutes, to make him think he’d dropped the subject. When the topmost screen flashed **_VICTORY!_****,** and Octavio leaped to his feet with a shout of celebration, Taejoon took this moment to attack, and slid his arms around the other’s waist. Octavio thrashed about in surprise, and Taejoon drew to his full height, practically carrying Octavio at this point.

“We can do this the easy way,” Taejoon said, and didn’t even bother disguising the humor in his face. “Or the hard way.”

“You are_ lucky _ you’re handsome,” Octavio seethed.

“Thanks,” Taejoon responded dryly. “We’re sleeping on my bed. Yours is too small.”

“Is that your way of calling me short?” Octavio sniffed a little dramatically. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Taejoon dumped Octavio unceremoniously onto his bed, and the other gave a squawk. He then started taking off his jacket and other garments, leaving his pants and shirt on. He discarded the rest onto the floor, deciding he’d clean them up in the morning, and watched Octavio fiddle with the bottom of his own shirt, surprisingly hesitant. Taejoon had thought that once he’d been forced into bed, he’d dropped the stubborn act and go along with it, but Octavio was sitting straight up and made no move to take off his legs.

The silence was unusual and a bit unnerving, and it was this, coupled with the sight of seeing his...boyfriend...in his bed for the first time that made something flip-flop in Taejoon’s stomach, and he said, without realizing, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’,” Octavio said. He was a terrible liar, in Taejoon’s eyes. Maybe others would fall for the casual way he said it, the way he’d flashed a grin, but Taejoon knew the fiddling fingers were not a good sign, and the silence was more unnerving still, so he sat down next to Octavio on the bed and fixed him with a stare.

“I hate when you do that,” Octavio sighed, tilting his head to the side and suddenly looking tired. Taejoon was thrown for a loop; feeling disconcerted by the fact that Octavio had dropped the pretense of being fine, he quietly asked, “Do what?”

“Look at me.” Octavio’s fingers curled into the material of his t-shirt, bunching the material up in his fist, right above his heart. “Feels like you always know something’s wrong with me.”

“It’s because I pay attention,” Taejoon said, shifting a little where he sat. “Is...there a reason you don’t want to sleep?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t wanna get nightmares.”

Taejoon blinked, and Octavio took his surprised silence as mockery. “Yeah, yeah, I know, _ dios Mio, _I’m twenty-four and I need to grow up, blah blah blah, but. I’m just scared. I don’t want to freak out in front of everyone.”

Taejoon knew where he was coming from; he’d been afraid of sleep for similar reasons after Mila had...well. It was partly because of nightmares, and partly because he was afraid he would be caught at any moment, that he would fall asleep and never wake up. He hadn’t quite broken out of this fear, yet—he still sometimes woke up and felt around his neck in panic, desperate to find a knife or bullet wound—but he understood where Octavio was coming from, and even had an idea about what nightmares he’d be having.

“Is this about your legs?” Taejoon asked. Octavio stared at him.

“Can you stop guessing everything correctly? I can’t keep secrets from you. Seriously.”

“Sorry..?” Taejoon wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for, but kept his mouth shut after that. He laid down on his back, stretching, and moved his arms to rest behind his head, cushioning it. He kept an eye on Octavio, who was still sitting up, metal legs poking Taejoon’s own, and at last, with a begrudging sigh, Octavio laid down with him.

“This isn’t how I imagined our first cuddle session would be,” Taejoon said sarcastically, though he smiled lightly to let Octavio know he wasn’t bothered. Even if the other’s metal feet were currently digging into his shins.

“Oh? You imagine cuddling me?” Octavio shot back, eyebrows raised as he nestled his head comfortably in the crook of Taejoon’s arm. “Scandalous. Don’t let anybody find out,_ bonito._”

“I lied,” Taejoon said, though this wasn’t true at all. “I don’t think I can cuddle you without crushing you. Seriously. You’re so small.”

Octavio dug his feet even more sharply into Taejoon’s shins, and seemed to revel in his wince.

“Night, Tae.”

“You can’t call me Tae _ and _ Joon,” he responded. “Pick one.”

Octavio rolled his eyes. “I said _night._ _Buenas noches._”

“Seriously, pick one.”

Squinting at him, Octavio seemed to ponder it for a moment, before saying, “Tae it is. Can I keep Joonito, though?”

_ No, _ Taejoon's brain said._ It’s embarrassing, really, and I have an image to keep up. _

His heart did that funny thing, though, the thing that made his breathing come out a little quicker and his ears turn red. “Yeah, I guess. But you have to give me my spare jacket back.”

“Nah,” Octavio yawned, eyes sliding shut, and Taejoon was pleased to see them remain shut. “You gave it to me, it’s mine now. Also, stop doing that.”

“What?”

“I can tell when you’re trying not to smile or something, which I get, you’ve got that mysterious hacker thing going on. But I wish you’d stop.” Octavio opened his eyes again, and Taejoon gave him an honest smile, though he doubted that the other knew the half of it. If he knew everything Taejoon was hiding, he imagined Octavio wouldn’t be curled up in his arms right now, admitting that he got nightmares. Revealing his weakness.

Taejoon wasn't big on kissing—not in this space, anyways, surrounded by other people and cameras—but everyone was asleep, and this _ was _his first time sleeping with Octavio, so he indulged himself just this once. He leaned over to press a kiss against Octavio's lips, and was unsurprised when Octavio met him with fierce enthusiasm. He allowed it to go on for a couple of seconds before pulling away, blocking any further attempts at kissing.

"We are _ not _making out like this," Taejoon said, and purposely slid his hips away from Octavio’s, who had pressed up against him while they were kissing.

"I'm sure Wraith won't notice. I think she just sleeps with her eyes open."

"If we make out, it's not gonna end well."

Octavio gave a huff. "Don't pop a boner, then."

"That's not what I meant. Not at all." A lie, but Taejoon was rather confident in his ability to mask his emotions, despite whatever Octavio said.

"Okay, _ cariño_," Octavio, laughed lightly and kissed him again, this time on his chin. "Whatever you say. But I can read you too, you know. And I hope you don’t regret me. Love ya."

Taejoon stilled, but Octavio didn’t notice; it seemed he was finally settling down, eyes closing again. The only sound in the air was the ever-present humming of the dropship, and he wondered, as Octavio’s leg curled around his own, just how much the other knew about him, and just how much he had forgiven, or was embracing.

Did he know about the tower? Why he was here? Why he hadn’t trusted anyone initially, why Taejoon might regret him? His voice had suggested he did, but maybe it was guesswork. Maybe it was a lie. Maybe this was a dream.

Whatever this was, he thought to himself, he wouldn't regret Octavio. His own eyes slid shut, and he shifted so that one of his arms was lying across Octavio’s waist. This was a weakness he was allowing himself to have.**  
**

"Saranghae," he mumbled, a little embarrassed, and finally fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> 10/30: [kojiak on tumblr drew rly cute fanart of this fic!](https://kojiak.tumblr.com/post/188614126279/this-fic-was-really-cute)
> 
> translations:
> 
> Korean:  
gaja--let's go  
jjeoreo--dope/sick/awesome (celebratory)  
annyeong--bye  
saranghae--love you
> 
> spanish:  
carino--darling/sweetheart/whatever its an endearment  
bien?--good?/you good?  
libertad!--freedom!/liberty!  
mios dio--my god/oh my god  
bonito--handsome/pretty/good looking whatever  
buenas noches--good night
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/tsodmike) where I tweet about apex legends every couple of weeks, mostly about octane apexlegends because I have feelings for him, or [tumblr](https://seerofmike.tumblr.com/)


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